


That Would Be Enough

by gurlsrool



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Fluff, Getting Together, Graduation, M/M, my gay love actually ass wrote an airport chase sry about it, no angst tho just jack being bi as hell for bitty and a nervous romantic piece of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurlsrool/pseuds/gurlsrool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude,” Holster places a hand on Jack’s shoulder and looks him in the eye, “One word. WWLND? What would Liam Neeson do?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Would Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be canon compliant tomorrow but it also won't be Natalie's (canadianstereotype on tumblr!) birthday tomorrow so I wrote it anyways! Here's some cheesy friendship and love and fluff and rom com references for the Ransom to my Holster ily ya Canadian nerd. TW for some strong language and mentions of Jack's anxiety but nothing too bad. Sorry for making the title a ham lyric it's all for you Nate. Also, obviously, everything belongs to my lov Ngozi!! Enjoy before tomorrow's update murders my ass!

The last time Jack can remember running with an actual purpose is freshman year. He was outside of Annie’s, tying his shoes, when he was pulled up by the elbow to the sound of a gruff voice screaming, “ _Run._ ” Jack hadn’t paused to question it or take a breath and ten minutes later he was in front of the freshman dorms, sweaty and panting, Shitty more so than Jack. “Brah!” Shitty had tackled him to the grass, out front, laughing. “Brah. Bro. Bro. Bro. Brah.”

Jack had roughhoused with him for a minute before falling on his back, staring up at the sky. “What?”

“You just ran,” Shitty had said awed, “You didn’t even question why I fuckin wanted to run, what if I had murdered someone?” 

“You didn’t, did you?” Jack had asked, a lazy grin on his face.

“Nah, just lectured a lax douche about heteronormativity and he tried to deck me for it but you didn’t fucking know that you know?” Shitty had sighed dreamily and sat up, plopped his head in Jack’s lap, “You’ve got my back bro.”

“Yeah,” Jack had agreed absentmindedly, not really knowing that that moment was the start of everything but feeling content anyways, “I’ve got your back.”

Maybe it’s because Jack actually knows the reason he’s running today and isn’t in a fluster of confusion or maybe it’s because that reason is Bitty, but he’s running a lot faster than he has since that autumn day. Since then, Jack’s only run for exercise, to stay in shape and find his breath, but he’s not sure he’s run this fast then either.

Jack’s gowns are billowing behind him and the air is warm on his neck and he thinks about Bitty and the night on the roof, when he had fallen asleep on Jack’s shoulder just before Jack fell asleep beside him and he had thought to himself _I’m so glad I’m here_ which really meant _I’m so glad I’m alive_. Jack thinks he started feeling that way somewhere between running from lax bros and homemade maple sugar crusted pie. 

Jack repeats his dad’s words in his head as he runs into the haus he had said goodbye to just hours before (through a very long process of kissing the light switch of every room which Shitty said was even more important than kissing center ice). He takes the stairs two by two only and throws the door to Bitty’s room open with his eyes closed.

“Tabernac,” Jack mutters to himself, hand slammed against the wall between his empty room and Bitty’s. He looks in twice to make sure it really is deserted and eventually sinks down outside of Bitty’s door, head buried in his hands. Jack’s trying not to think of all the times he had stood in this hallway when Bitty’s room was alive and full of Eric’s clothes and textbooks and warmth and _him_. 

He had been so, so close. All those mornings he had been across the hall dancing to Beyonce, all those afternoons he had been across the hall watching 30 Rock with Holster or getting tackled by Shitty, all those nights he had been across the hall sleeping while Jack lied awake and thought about the way Bitty smiled during cellies and fuck if he had just opened his damn eyes sooner-

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and his first thought is to call Bitty which is dumb, he knows, because he’s probably halfway through security right now without a thought of Jack in his mind but he can’t help it because Bitty’s always his first thought. He presses the phone against his ear with a sigh.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, is that you?” Jack can hear Shitty smiling through the phone and he runs a hand through his hair, slowly, “It’s been so long! Miss me already?”

“Shitty I-” Jack breathes heavily, swallows hard.

“Whoa, whoa,” Shitty says and he can hear the moment he separates himself from his family because he immediately sounds more Samwell than Cambridge. “What’s going on, you okay? Breathe. It’s not the end of the world, you know, you can’t get rid of any of us we’re fucking leeches man.”

“No, it’s not that I… Bittle left.”

“Okay? I think there might still be some pie in the haus…”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Whoa, really? That doesn’t sound like Bits but it was probably just too much for him you know-”

“No, we,” Jack takes a breath and thinks of the day in sophomore year when it was early spring and cold out and Shitty laid naked on the roof anyways, a joint between his lips and Jack had crawled out of his room and sat beside him with his comforter draped over his shoulders and said, “IthinkI’mbi.” all in one word. Shitty had lifted his eyes and pulled Jack into his arms and just held him for a long moment before he said, “I’ve got your back man.” and thanked him for the moment and kissed his head like thirty times. 

Jack thinks of that all in one breath, the night sky and the joint and the way he had spent so long gathering up the words in his head only for them to tumble out of his mouth and for Shitty to catch every single one. “We said goodbye but we didn’t say goodbye.”

“Jack…”

Jack breathes again and then, all as one word because pausing for words gives him too much time to think, says “Ididn’ttellBittlehowIfeelabouthim.”

“Oh. Oh shit. And how do you feel about him? Exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says which is a lie, he knows and he knows Shitty knows. “I feel like… I feel like the Falcs and a cup, all of it... won’t be… enough without him?”

“Oh shit. Oh fuck bro.”

“I know.”

“You know communication is key.”

“I know. He’s gone though and he shouldn’t-”

“Jack Zimmermann,” Shitty says sternly, “If that sentence is going to end with some bullshit about how he deserves better I’m going to hang up the phone right fucking now. You hear me? Jack?”

“No I-yeah, I do, I do.”

“Fuck okay my mom’s gonna shave my stache if I don’t go back to the table right now and Lards probably will too but I want you to remember you deserve this.”

“Okay,” Jack says quietly and then he hangs up the phone without bothering to say bye because he can’t handle another goodbye, not now. When he looks up, he locks eyes with Ransom and Holster, standing slack-jawed and frozen above him at the top of the staircase. Jack jumps to his feet and glances down at the beer stained carpet, rubbing his neck nervously, “You uh heard that eh?” he tries to smile but can’t.

“Dude!” Ransom exclaims. “This is like…”

“Notting Hill level shit!” Holster finishes.

“What?” 

“Notting Hill, no you know what he’s not running to an airport in that-”

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Jack narrows his eyebrows, looking between the two who are giving each other that look that means they’re communicating telepathically like they always do, on the ice and off. 

“Dude,” Holster places a hand on Jack’s shoulder and looks him in the eye, “One word. WWLND? What would Liam Neeson do?”

“Damn Holtz that’s like five words! Jack he’s saying you just missed him.” 

“Oh.”

“He’s saying you still have time to pull a Liam Neeson’s Game of Thrones kid in that movie and get to him.”

“Love Actually?” Holster provides in response to Jack’s confused expression and he remembers the movie night where they watched that last Christmas, when Lardo had discussed the nude paintings with santa hats in one scene and Shitty had discussed how bullshit it was that the movie was about all different types of love but they were all straight and Bitty had cried during the scene where the little boy chases the little girl to the airport and…

“Oh.” Jack shoves his phone in his pocket and runs downstairs.

“Dude!” he hears Ransom and Holster behind him a second later, “You really doing this?”

“Yes,” Jack replies immediately. He is.

They look at each other sideways. “We’re taking you.”

“What?”

“No uber will speed for the sake of true love, come on Jack!” Holster and Ransom run to the car packed to the brim with suitcases and boxes where Ransom’s parents are waiting outside, arms folded.

“Finally,” Mrs. Oluransi huffs, “I thought you were just getting some pie. Oh, hello Jack-”

“Be right back mom!” Ransom yelps, grabbing the keys from his dad’s hands and running to the other side, barreling into the front seat. Jack casts them an apologetic glance before sliding into the front seat and Holster dives into the back. They hear a faint scream of “JUSTIN” as they speed away from the haus and Ransom cackles in response, “Oh shit, she’s gonna kill me.”

“Sorry.”

“Dude, are you kidding?” Ransom looks at him and sees that he’s not, of course he’s not. “We’ve got your back man.”

“And,” Holster pipes up, “by helping you pull this off, we’re helping Bits that’s like… double backs.”

Jack smiles shyly and sends a text to Shitty saying _I’m going to the airport_ half to occupy his hands and half to make this feel more real before he says, “You’re gonna make great captains you know that right?”

“Jack Zimmermann,” Jack swears he sees a tear in Holster’s eye as they whip around the corner, “You Canadian sap.” 

Shitty texts back a string of exclamation points and Jack slips his phone in his pocket, closing his eyes mostly so he doesn’t get car sick. Holster’s drumming on the driver’s seat excitedly and describing the plot of Notting Hill from start to finish and Jack’s tuning in and out and every time he’s out he thinks of Bitty.

They don’t get pulled over despite breaking what could only be described in Shitty’s words as a “fuckload of laws” because, in Holster’s words “It’s rom com magic, brah, is the knight pulled over on his horse when he went to goes to get his prince from the tower? Fuck no!”

The second Ransom pulls up to the Delta departures gate, Jack’s throwing the passenger seat door open, taking off into a run. 

He hears a faint scream of “GO GET HIM CAP!” and then all he can hear is his feet pounding on the floor, skidding to a halt in front of a security guard.

“I need to cut this line,” he says and he cringes at how entitled celebrity it sounds, whipping his head to the side to see if there’s anybody watching to tweet this.

The security guard raises an eyebrow, “You and me both kid. You got TSA pre-check?”

“What? No, I don’t even have a ticket I just-”

“Well you’re not getting through here at any speed without a ticket.” 

“Look,” Jack takes a deep breath in and searches the guy’s face for any sort of recognition of who he is. He considers playing the Zimmermann card but he never has before and he’s proud of that fact and he needs to be braver than that. “There’s a boy.” the guard raises his eyebrow higher at that, “A- a man, I just really need to talk to him. It’s important.”

“Doesn’t your boy have a cell phone?”

“I can’t do this on the phone,” Jack says, eyes pleading. When he gets no response, he says, “I’ll pay you.”

The guy snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, alright.”

“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars. Or two or three, whatever you want.” 

The guard’s eyes widen and then he says, “Shit kid if you have money like that to spend why don’t you just buy a plane ticket?” 

“Oh… right…” and then he’s running again, fumbling with his wallet as he does, buying a ticket to the first place that comes up with TSA pre-check. He ignores the irony of the fact that it’s a ticket to Québec which was his only home before Samwell and Bitty. It doesn’t matter, he’ll just throw it out after he gets to Eric. Or maybe, he thinks, if this works out well, he’ll save it. Lardo could use it in an art project on Jack and Bitty and falling in love in all the right ways at all the wrong times. He thinks that’s what you’re supposed to do, save memories in postcards and plane tickets and the thing is, he never thought he would feel this way, would want this, but right now it’s all he feels. He has no idea if Bitty will feel the same but he doesn’t think about it, runs anyways. 

Jack sprints back and thrusts the ticket hastily under the nose of the same security guard as before. 

He grins as he takes Jack’s I.D and scans the ticket, “This boy must be something special huh?” 

“Yeah,” Jack says, as he takes his ticket back and jogs towards the metal detector. “He is.”

He gets weird looks at security which he first takes as a Zimmermann thing until the old woman behind him pats him on the shoulder and congratulates him and says she wishes her granddaughter had found a boy as handsome as him at college and he realizes it’s more of a _he’s running through the airport in graduation gowns_ thing. 

A moment later, the second person who checks his I.D widens her eyes a little but Jack doesn’t give his usual P.R smile and instead grabs it back from her and takes off running. This is it, Jack thinks. This is going to fix or break everything and he doesn’t have a single clue of what he’s going to say. He doesn’t have a clue if Bitty will even still be there with all the time he spent talking to Shitty and driving over and buying a ticket. He could be on a flight to Madison right now, head pressed against the window, headphones in, blasting some pop song Jack will never hear again. 

Maybe it’s because of Holster’s rom com magic or how shitty of an airline Delta is but he’s still there. Jack turns the corner to Bitty’s gate and he’s there, sitting on one of the uncomfortable black chairs, backpack tucked under his legs and eyes buried in his phone and Jack’s heart pounds faster as he simultaneously thinks _I’ll never get tired of seeing this_ and _shit fuck shit_. 

If this were a movie, maybe Bitty would look up and lock eyes with him and maybe Bitty would run to him. But it’s not and Bitty doesn’t really look up from his phone often which Jack finds way too charming considering the fact that this means he has to _approach_ him which makes his heart pound harder and he thinks of the moment before his very last game on the Samwell team when Shitty had clapped him on the shoulder and whispered “it’s now or never bro.” 

He ignores the fact that they lost that game and walks up to Bitty. He still doesn’t notice him so Jack breathes and clears his throat. 

Bitty looks up and his eyes go wide and he opens his mouth, closes it again and then says, “Jack?” 

“Hey Bittle,” Jack smiles shyly and casts his eyes down to his feet before moving his eyes back upwards and taking in how wide his eyes are before he chirps weakly, “Crazy running into you here.”

“Jack, what are you…” Bitty stands to his feet and then looks surprised that he’s up. “What are you doing here?”

“Canwetalkinprivate?” Jack asks because he really does have a bad tendency of not breathing between words when he’s nervous and fuck is he nervous.

“I...where?” Bitty asks, bewildered. “We’re in an airport Jack,” he says, more to himself like he needs to hear the words out loud to believe them.

“Oh.” Jack says and swallows. “I uh… guess I didn’t really think this through.” 

There’s a muffled voice announcing that they’re going to be boarding soon and Bitty pulls his backpack on his shoulders and Jack closes his eyes because he can’t handle seeing him walk away, not now, not- he feels a soft touch on his wrist. 

“C'mon,” Bitty says softly and then drops his hand but he can still feel the ghost of it as he follows Bitty’s rushed footsteps away from the gate. Maybe Jack should think twice before following a man into a public one person bathroom right before he starts off his career in the NHL but he can’t think about anything but how much he has to say and how little time they have. 

Bitty locks the door behind him and leans against it, backpack and all, arms folded over his chest. “What’s going on Jack?” he asks softly and he looks as scared as Jack is. “Are you… okay?”

“Yeah… I… no,” Jack says because in that moment he realizes he can’t lie to Bitty, never really has been able to, “No I’m not. I… um. Tabernac. This isn’t how I imagined this happening.”

“And what is _this_ exactly?” Bitty asks, staring up at Jack with a mix of fear and sadness and a little bit of hope. 

“I think it’s a grimy family bathroom,” Jack says.

“Jack,” he says, sounding almost angry.

“I don’t think it’s…” Jack’s voice goes quiet, “romantic enough.” 

“Jack,” he says and Jack’s amazed by all the different ways Bitty can say his name. “Jack what are you doing?” 

Jack breathes. “I’m saying goodbye.” He pushes Bitty into the door as much as he can with his backpack acting as a barrier and kisses him softly, before he can question himself. Samwell made Jack good at acting without thinking, Jack thinks for a moment before all he can think is that Bitty feels so soft beneath him and they’re in a fucking dirty bathroom of the Logan airport but Jack never wants to leave. 

“Oh Jack,” Bitty whispers when Jack pulls back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack drops his gaze.

“Oh honey what the hell do you have to be sorry for?”

“For waiting so long. For doing this here, like this when you deserve… better. You’ll always deserve better.”

“Jack,” Bitty pulls Jack back down by his neck and kisses him harder than Jack had kissed him, more urgently. Jack thinks they’re talking like this. Obviously they’ll have to talk, really talk, about this and what they are and what they’ll be but for now, this is enough. More than enough. For now, this feels like closure on the last four years of his life. “Jack…” Bitty pulls back slowly but keeps his hands around his neck, “You’re… you’re good for me.”

Jack drops his gaze and for the first time admits, “I want this. It’s okay if you don’t, it’s not going to be easy, maybe not ever but-”

“I want this too Jack,” Bitty says as Jack raises his eyes to the ceiling, where the muffled sound of the intercom, calling for the last boarding group comes through the ceiling. “Gosh we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiles and his eyes feel a little watery, “I uh… I have to go back to Providence, today but I can visit. I can visit and we can talk. I mean, we can skype too and text and-” 

“I’d like that,” Bitty whispers.

“We should get outta here.”

“What?”

“You can’t miss your flight.”

“Oh yeah,” Bitty laughs, “I almost forgot about that. Did you..” Bitty swallows, “Did you… chase me here?”

“Uh, yeah kind of,” Jack smiles, then hears Shitty’s voice in his head, _communication is key_ , “I think I’d chase you anywhere.” 

“I don’t think you have to chase very much Jack. I’m not running.” 

Jack kisses Bitty on the forehead, softly, and then they’re ducking out of the bathroom and back towards the gate. They stand in silence for a few moments, side by side in line, sneaking shy glances at each other as subtly as possible because they keep forgetting they don’t have to be subtle anymore. “You should come down for the fourth of July,” Bitty says softly, “I could take you to the rink I used to skate at. We could make pies. See the fireworks. I mean I know you don't celebrate it but…”

“I’d like that,” Jack whispers and then he’s hugging Bitty for a last time because now that he’s able to touch him he can’t really stop. Bitty throws Jack a smile over his shoulder and a little wave and it feels so different than the last goodbye because it doesn’t feel like a goodbye at all, not really.

That day, Jack does four things in the Logan airport besides kiss Eric Bittle for the first time. He texts Shitty a thumbs up. He texts his dad and says he’s on his way to dinner and adds a well deserved thank you too. He texts Bitty and tells him to have a safe flight. 

And he keeps the plane ticket in his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu @ gaysun on tumblr i cry abt fictional hockey gays a lot see y'all later thanks for reading!!!!!!!! p.s I wrote this between updates, obviously, so i didn't get to spend too much time editing forgive any typos! anyways, come see me after tomorrow's update if you wanna BOY HE BOUT TO DO IT!!!!!!!! Thanks to Natalie, Genielle, Katie, and Katie for everything and to BAD BOB ZIMMERMANN FOR MAKING THIS HAPPEN YA SLY DOG!


End file.
